The Accused is an Innocent Man
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I believe in leprechauns!
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I have owned baozer since 2001. That means four fucking years of my life have been devoted to the everyday task of reading, commenting, posting, and lay-outing LJ entries. The epiphany, that FUCK I probably could've done alot of things with that time, like get into Harvard, lose weight, edumacate, masturbate, copulate, feed carrotts to bunnies, the possibilities are endless and I may never be able to list anything more creative than the above mentioned, noting my limited LJ realm of intelligence.
A note to LJ newbies, leave while you can, before LJ ends up as your home page. Alot of you should not be mocking my previous sentence because you know it's yours, too.
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Today marked the first time I presided in my room while the cleaning ladies did their thaaaang (I follow that word with a -finger snap-), and by that meant they cleaned it. I am fortunate enought to dorm in a hotel my freshman year of college, with its wide array of brilliant softcore porn distributed across four, i repeat FOUR, channels of HBO (you'd be surprised at HBO Family's late-night programming), as well as a complimentary Taquito or Pork Sandwich in the lobby once in a while.
Back to the the cleaning ladies, I love them, I tip them. But today, I sorta felt embarrassed as they were cleaning my bathroom. For some odd reason, the ladies began giggling like idiots, loud and hearty, suddenly stopping and yelling at each other like, "SHHH, Bitch! He'll hear us!" but in Espanol. This sort of painful repressed laughter went on for a while, until they decided to call their friend Jose into the bathroom and all three of them began laughing.
What the fuck were they laughing at? And yeah, USC cleaning ladies look like that, which is why I'll let the laughing slide.
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I hate being recognized at work. Some giddy enthusiastic sorority girl would go "like OMG, were you on American Idol? You were so good, seriously. How far did you make it?" I'd just cover my face with a book, and say "Thanks, but SHHH!" and motion a BIG shooing away movement with my arms to cover the irony: Why the fuck would I be worrying about work study funds at a crappy computer lab if I made it far on Idol?
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Speaking of which, I'm going into the studio to record some tracks for some shit i'm gonna get paid for so i'm happy. William Hung got a recording contract with Fuse or something worth $25,000. I'm only getting a gross fraction of that. But seriously, listen to The OutKast Remix of William Hung's She Bangs.
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I can always tell what styles are on the forefront of female fashion by watching the contestants on American Idol, because frankly, those bitches try HARD (and they must, they all fine and got skills, so it's competitive like a muth'fugga for em. again I follow that with an obligatory finger snap).
4/7 of the girls so far have been wearing that sort of long shirt thing pictured on your right, except with tighter jeans and more boob. Which brings me to recall the style craze that frightened me at the Hollywood Auditions. Three things: those clown-looking parachute pants, fishnets stalkings (seriuosly wth), and those pointy ninja boots. They put these things together into one outfit, roughly 50 of the female contestants and about 2 male ones, so it was like a singing ninja clown convention. Scary!
Diva One: "Girl, you workin' them boots and them pants. Where you find them at?...Holla!"
Diva Two: "Thank you. Thank you. Word. Word. I got em at Bebe, sista' friend. Bebe is where the fashions is."
Another interesting thing at Hollywood was that I got hit on by Jennifer Hudson and Jeffrey Dingle. I'm very glad I am at least considered attractive by large soul sisters and fashionable flip boys (the guy has LV leather cowboy boots).
I believe in leprechauns!
------------------------------------------------------------------
I have owned baozer since 2001. That means four fucking years of my life have been devoted to the everyday task of reading, commenting, posting, and lay-outing LJ entries. The epiphany, that FUCK I probably could've done alot of things with that time, like get into Harvard, lose weight, edumacate, masturbate, copulate, feed carrotts to bunnies, the possibilities are endless and I may never be able to list anything more creative than the above mentioned, noting my limited LJ realm of intelligence.
A note to LJ newbies, leave while you can, before LJ ends up as your home page. Alot of you should not be mocking my previous sentence because you know it's yours, too.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Today marked the first time I presided in my room while the cleaning ladies did their thaaaang (I follow that word with a -finger snap-), and by that meant they cleaned it. I am fortunate enought to dorm in a hotel my freshman year of college, with its wide array of brilliant softcore porn distributed across four, i repeat FOUR, channels of HBO (you'd be surprised at HBO Family's late-night programming), as well as a complimentary Taquito or Pork Sandwich in the lobby once in a while.
Back to the the cleaning ladies, I love them, I tip them. But today, I sorta felt embarrassed as they were cleaning my bathroom. For some odd reason, the ladies began giggling like idiots, loud and hearty, suddenly stopping and yelling at each other like, "SHHH, Bitch! He'll hear us!" but in Espanol. This sort of painful repressed laughter went on for a while, until they decided to call their friend Jose into the bathroom and all three of them began laughing.
What the fuck were they laughing at? And yeah, USC cleaning ladies look like that, which is why I'll let the laughing slide.
---------------------------------------------------------------
I hate being recognized at work. Some giddy enthusiastic sorority girl would go "like OMG, were you on American Idol? You were so good, seriously. How far did you make it?" I'd just cover my face with a book, and say "Thanks, but SHHH!" and motion a BIG shooing away movement with my arms to cover the irony: Why the fuck would I be worrying about work study funds at a crappy computer lab if I made it far on Idol?
----------------------------------------------------------------
Speaking of which, I'm going into the studio to record some tracks for some shit i'm gonna get paid for so i'm happy. William Hung got a recording contract with Fuse or something worth $25,000. I'm only getting a gross fraction of that. But seriously, listen to The OutKast Remix of William Hung's She Bangs.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I can always tell what styles are on the forefront of female fashion by watching the contestants on American Idol, because frankly, those bitches try HARD (and they must, they all fine and got skills, so it's competitive like a muth'fugga for em. again I follow that with an obligatory finger snap).
4/7 of the girls so far have been wearing that sort of long shirt thing pictured on your right, except with tighter jeans and more boob. Which brings me to recall the style craze that frightened me at the Hollywood Auditions. Three things: those clown-looking parachute pants, fishnets stalkings (seriuosly wth), and those pointy ninja boots. They put these things together into one outfit, roughly 50 of the female contestants and about 2 male ones, so it was like a singing ninja clown convention. Scary!
Diva One: "Girl, you workin' them boots and them pants. Where you find them at?...Holla!"
Diva Two: "Thank you. Thank you. Word. Word. I got em at Bebe, sista' friend. Bebe is where the fashions is."
Another interesting thing at Hollywood was that I got hit on by Jennifer Hudson and Jeffrey Dingle. I'm very glad I am at least considered attractive by large soul sisters and fashionable flip boys (the guy has LV leather cowboy boots).